


Ties Between Hell and Heaven

by dutiesofcare



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Episode: s07e09 Cold War, F/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2018-10-11 06:33:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10457613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dutiesofcare/pseuds/dutiesofcare
Summary: It was going to be a very long and unpleasant journey back to the TARDIS, especially when Clara finds herself trapped in her quarters with a Russian soldier, with no idea about the Doctor's whereabouts. Tag to Cold War, 7x08, trigger warnings inside.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I'm not really an avid whouffle shipper, but what happened during the time the Doctor and Clara were aboard the sub was something that always left me curious. So I've decided to take matter into my own hands.
> 
> Second of all, this contains lots of trigger warnings. If you feel triggered by violence, non-con and rape, please do not read this. I wanted to write this because I'd wanted to see Clara reacting to some sort of trauma, so this is going to be traumatizing to her as it could be. And I'd hate for anybody to feel uncomfortable by this story.
> 
> I don't have any beta readers, so please let me know of any casual grammar/orthographic splits. Enjoy :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters.

Clara Oswald was going crazy.

She had never been that good at doing absolutely nothing, she always got bored so easy, therefore she felt like she would soon lose her mind inside that tiny room she had been stuck for the past few days, and she would most likely remain for a few more.

She had never in her life been claustrophobic, but she was starting to feel uncomfortable after so long inside the submarine. She missed the sound of birds, she missed the sun against her skin. Sure, the captain had been kind enough to let them use his quarters, which was slightly bigger than the others sailors' dorm rooms. Clara was thankful for his kind gestures, even if she was sure he had only done it because he didn't want her, _a girl_ , to be a distraction to his men, to which she made sure to roll her eyes over his misogyny.

The Doctor had been pretty mandatory as well about her not wandering off as well. She got where his worries were coming from, she knew he only wanted to protect her, they were, after all, aboard a soviet submarine in plan cold war, the laws of ethics could easily be broken without any kind of consequence. But she had seen those in the sub, she pretty much doubted any of them would try anything on her.

Still, she was stuck inside that room, all by herself. The Doctor wasn't good at staying indoors either, but he got to run the ship whenever he wasn't with her, with his fancy words about physics and ships that no human dared to cross over. She didn't mind his way of passing time, but she despised him for leaving her completely alone, as bored as she had never been. And she thought traveling with him was supposed to be _fun,_ not boring.

For the first days of their journey to the South Pole, she had settled on cleaning the captain's quarters. She did her best not to remove his things out of place, but still cleaning off the dust laying around. After that, she decided to go through his small collection of books, but there was just enough hydraulics her brain could stand.

She missed her clothes, above all things. She was wearing the smallest uniform available, and yet she felt like there could be fit another one of her in them. Neither did she wear any underwear. After tossing and turning them inside out as much as she could, she had no choice but to wash them in the prior night as she showered, and given to the lack of sunlight, it would still take a while for them to dry up.

She didn't wash her bra, though.

Clara checked the clock on the wall. It was barely past two in the afternoon, even if it seemed ages ago she had last had lunch. It appeared she had been up for years, and yet she had awoken after ten, as sleeping was a way of passing the time.

She then decided it would be nice to meditate. Not like she hadn't been alone with her thoughts for the past six days, but she remembered vaguely about a yoga instructor telling her at the few classes she had taken about the importance of meditation. At that moment, she regretted trading yoga for taekwondo. If she hadn't, at least she would have another hobby to entertain herself.

Clara was probably too focused on not to think about anything, hence why her meditation methods weren't working. Soon enough, she gave up, throwing her body across the hard mattress of the bed. She was sure she would retrieve a back pain until the end of the journey.

Suddenly, she heard four knocks coming from the door. She leaned on her elbows, raising her body a few inches from the mattress. She debated whether she should or not see who it was, knowing the Doctor would simply sonic the lock in, he had no sense of intimacy at all. Not that she really cared, at the end of the day she was just so lonely she would give up a kidney for a little human contact.

When they knocked again, she decided it would be best to go check it. She unlocked the door, opening it at a full leigh. Her eyes stared at the soldier blankly, waiting for him to explain the purpose of his visit.

"I found your dress in the laundry room," he told her, showing her the piece of clothing folded in his hand. "Thought you'd like it back."

Clara offered him a closed smile, while awkwardly retrieving her blue dress. "Thanks, I appreciate it."

He nodded, "Bet you'll look much better in that dress rather than that ugly uniform."

Clara blushed uncomfortably, before trying to close the door at him, but he stuck his feet against the wooden door, keeping her succeeding. Her heart began to race faster. "I'm sorry, can I help you with something?"

He laid his hand across the frame. "I'd like to see you wearing that."

Realizing she would be in even more trouble if she got herself stuck inside that room with him, she tried to slip under his arm, but he body blocked her. Next thing she knew, he had a sharp pocket knife across her neck. "Don't scream. Try anything funny and I'll cut that pretty little throat of yours."

Clara tried one last time to shup the door at him, blood running rapidly in her veins, but failed miserably. Instead, she was pushed back inside, this time with him in there, the door being closed behind them. Her breathing pattern had become faster, but her words were stuck in her throat. She was on the edge of panicking.

She locked around the room. There had to be a way out of that mess, a way to defend herself. _Think, Clara._ She wasn't a long distance away from the bathroom, but he would get to her if she tried heading there. The main door was out of question, he was standing right in front of it. There weren't any objects laying around, so she couldn't try to smack his head nor anything. She was in complete despair.

The sailor began to walk in her direction. Clara took a few steps back, only to hit her back against the hard wall. She could feel him eating her out with his eyes, which made her sick to her stomach, and she could swear she had seen him lick his lips with his tongue.

The distance between them soon ceased to exist, and she could feel his warm breath on her face. Clara blinked several times, in the despaired hope that had all been a dream and she was on the verge of waking up. If it were, then her brain had been pretty adamant about not letting her wake up.

_Think, Clara, think._

Not having any other clever ideas, she slowly lifted her right knee, careful not to draw his attention to her upcoming movement, before strongly sitting him between his legs. It was a matter of seconds until he was crawling on floor, holding his _balls_ between his hands, in terrible pain. She knew she couldn't miss that chance.

Jumping his lying figure, Clara ran towards the door. Her shaken hands tried countless times to turn the knob open, her brain taking a few seconds to realize it was locked. Her fingers moved to the lock, aiming to turn around the key before her time was up, but it wasn't there.

"No, no, no, no…!" she muffed under her breath, still viciously trying to get the door open even if it were locked, even if she knew that, logically, it wouldn't budge. "Doctor! Help me! Doctor!"

"Looking for this?" the soldier showed her the door key, while slowing making his way back up. It took him a while to regain his balance. "You are going to pay for this, _you little bitch_."

Clara leaned her back against the wooden door, her human form looking as small as ever, but she refused to cry the tears that were forming in the corner of her eyes. "Please. Just walk away _right now,_ I won't tell anybody, I promise."

"Now, where's the fun in that?" he smirked, taking his belt off and tossing it to the floor. Slowly and making sure it made a sound when it hit the ground, just to torture her. The pocket knife was soon back in his hands. "I'm not afraid to use this."

"You should be," she tried to make appoint, "The Doctor will hurt you _badly_ if he finds out you've harmed me in any way."

He laughed, "Oh, _the Doctor_ ," he mocked her, taking slow steps towards her. "Tell me, _Clara_ , what is the Doctor's power apart from his words? Those don't always come in handy."

Clara could tell her lower lip was shaking like a lose leaf in the wind, as she now stood only a few inches away from his big and large body. He could easily take her down in a fight, she stood with no chances before him. "Words are more powerful than weapons."

He seemed to ignore her completely. "Why don't you be a good girl and put on your dress for me?"

"No," she spatted, fiercely.

"Oh, Clara, you know, I'm not a guy who takes no from answers from _women_ ," he said, as his hands slowly made their way to her belly, under the big t-shirt she had on. "Let's try again. Take off your clothes and put your dress back on."

She felt disgusting with the way he touched her. " _No,_ " she repeated. She wouldn't go down without a fight.

The sailor unexpectedly pulled her by the hair, before hardly slapping her in the face, so merciless she ended up falling across the room. He walked to where she had landed. "You and I… We're going to have so much fun."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this chapter in particular is one of the darkest gigs I have ever written. If you're following this so far, then brace yourself. I myself have never experienced something like what's bound to happen, but I still tried to keep myself as loyal as I could to details.

Clara forced herself back up.

She could feel the skin of her cheek burning, but that was the least of her concerns. Her body was sore from the fall, but she knew that was a good kind of pain compared to what was bound to come. She was doomed, and for the first time in her life, she didn't have a clever way out.

The sailorman grabbed a hold of her wrists, with one hand only, his thick fingers strongly wrapping around her tiny fists. She tried to break free, but that only made him tighten his grip. With his free hand, he basically ripped the t-shirt she was wearing apart, perhaps he knew there wasn't anyone in the sub small enough to fit in once she was gone, perhaps he just didn't care.

Clara felt more exposed than never, but for once, she was relieved she hadn't taken off her bra to wash it along her underwear. Next thing she knew, he stuck his tongue inside her mouth. She tried to clinched her teeth together, but he found his way in and she felt disgusting.

Then, she strongly bit off his tongue. The man backed off immediately, swearing in pain. Clara could taste his blood in her mouth, which made her sick at the simple thought of something belonging to him inside of her. She welcomed the advantage to run towards the bathroom, the only place where she could hide until someone – the Doctor – came to rescue her.

Despite of his injuries, the sailorman grabbed her by the torso, so strongly she knew his fingers had form red marks in her bare skin. He twisted her arm to her back and she screamed in pain, her elbow being twisted in an angle it had never been able to on its own, before being thrown to the floor.

The man sat down between her legs, before he showed her the knife again. Clara tried to move away from him, but he held her back. He pressed the sharp object along her skin, not deep enough to draw blood, but enough to make her heart pound against her chest three times faster.

His movements stopped once he hit a spot in her upper tight. "This," he started, caressing the area still covered with the trousers, "Is just to ensure you won't try anything funny again."

Clara closed her eyes, trying to focus on anything rather than the pain she knew was coming. But the more she tried to diverge her brain, the more it feared what was about to happen.

Without any previous warning, she felt her flesh being torn apart. She screamed louder than ever, a sudden feeling like her lungs weren't getting enough oxygen. She was sure she had never endured that same amount of pain, until the soldier removed the cold blade from her. A tear she had no control over rolled down her face.

Clara tried to lift her body, just enough so she could look at the state of her leg. It didn't do her much, since her vision was faint and she couldn't anything but a red blur taking over her blue trousers. She fell back, breathing quickly because of the crucial pain coming from her limp. She could only pray he hadn't hit a major artery and she wouldn't bleed to death.

Even if death sounded like the easy path out at that moment.

"Doctor…" her words came out softer than a whisper, as she was already weaker than before, due to the blood loss. She could hear the darkness calling for her, but she couldn't give up, she couldn't surrender to him. Her fate would be much worse if she did.

He only laughed at her. "You're so pathetic. Hot, either way, but pathetic. Doctor, Doctor, well, guess what, your precious Doctor isn't coming for you this time. You're stuck here with me."

Clara locked her eyes on him, intimidating him in the only way she knew how. "Why?"

"Why?" he grinned at her question, as he slowly made his way atop of her. She gasped at the weight laid on her. "Because you're a woman. You're nothing but a piece of meat, and I'll be damned if I'll let you go without a little gift."

Clara felt naked at his words, regardless if she still had half her clothes on. She tried to get away from under him, with no use. "I'm not an object. I'm just as human as you are. No one deserves to go through this, not because of their gender, or their race, or because of what they said. I'm saying no, you don't have the right to lay a single finger on me."

His face turned angry at her words, and his vein was pulsing in his forehead. Without being able to control his rage, he clinched his fist together, before punching her in the jaw, so hard Clara was sure she could see the stars. "You don't get a saying! You must obey me, you little whore!"

Clara now tasted her own blood in her mouth. She had her eyes closed for dear life, just waiting for another punch to come, but it never did. Instead, she felt her trousers being pulled down her waist, hanging just below her knees. She tried desperately with the non-injured leg to stop him, but he held her down.

"Stop fighting or this will be way worse for you," he lowered his head down to whisper at her ear, in what she assumed was a friendly advice, even if there was nothing friendly out of the situation as a whole.

Given to the proximity, Clara spat in his face a mixture of both blood and saliva. "Screw you."

He cleansed up his face in disgust, but he couldn't deny her continuous struggle was turning him on even more. "You want to play rough? I can play rough, dear."

He didn't wait for any reply as he moved his hands to her neck, lightly holding a grip of it. He didn't have to use much of his strength to lift her in the air. Clara gasped for oxygen, feeling her body go phantom when he slammed her back against the concrete wall. Her legs were strained at her own trousers, now down at her ankles. She almost choked on air when he let go of her throat, her body weight falling to her good leg.

He cradled his teeth right above her left breast, her chest being the only part of her body to remain clothed. She tried to shove him away from her with her tiny and ineffectual wrists, but only got him to crave his mouth on her even harder. "Please, don't do this, please" her pleads were all the fight left inside her.

"It doesn't feel so good once you lose control, does it?" he provoked her, his body so near hers she could feel his hard member against her inner legs, what made her panic even more. There was no way of cheating her fate, anymore.

The soldier pressed the palm of his hand against her mouth, just to make sure she wouldn't utter any sound that could be heard from the outside. Then, his free hand traveled to her hidden place, one that she tried vigorously to keep locked, even if her hurt limp burned at any slight movement. Her effort had been irrelevant, he forced her legs open anyway.

He had a sick smile on his face as his fingertips touched her clit. "Oh, Clara, Clara, look how wet you are. For me."

She tried calling for help, but her words were muffed by his tick hand pressing her mouth shut. Clara let out a scared moan the moment she felt him rubbing his fingers against her lower lips. And she despised her body's reactions to his touch, it made her feel disgusted with herself.

Moments later, he thrusted her with his fingers, and for the first time, a tear escaped her eye ducts, soon being followed by another and another. She groaned in pain when he slid another finger inside of her, enjoying himself out of her surrender. "Hmm, so tight."

The thrusted her a couple of more times, before finally removing his fingers from her. Clara stood completely still, too weak to fight back. She felt violated in the worst kind of way, and she wished he had stabbed her in the throat and taken the life away from her, instead.

Because she knew she wasn't done with her yet.

The soldier lifted his hand up their faces, and licked her juices from his fingers. Clara was sick to her stomach seeing how much he had enjoyed that. She tried to lurk away from his disgusting touch, but he was still stronger than her, heavier than her, taller than her.

Carelessly, he grabbed her body and threw her to the bed. Taking in the opportunity that her mouth was finally free, she started to scream as loud as she could, not caring a bit about what her punishment would be. She just needed someone to hear her, before all her dignity was stolen away from her. Unfortunately, she was silenced by another punch in the jaw, this time even harder, at the same place she had been before. She didn't even want to look at herself in the mirror and find out what color her jaw was turning into.

Clara didn't scream no more. Instead, she just cried loud sobs, but she couldn't control those. Her whole body ached, her inner legs ached, and she didn't know how much more she could handle. Her strength along her will to live was getting further and further away from her.

But her eyes jumped in even greater fear when she saw him unzipping his trousers. She tried to shake him off her, but her futile attempts just caused him to laugh at her. "Don't worry, babe, you're going to enjoy it."

She gasped for air the instance she saw his erected member out of his underwear. She tried to look away, to fool her brain into oblivion about what was about to happen, but he grabbed her injured chin and forced her to look at it. "I want you to see."

She jerked her head. "Please don't do this, please don't, please don't," she kept repeating, hoping that the universe would grand her at least that. She already was broken enough.

The sailor completely ignored her pleads, adjusting himself between her limps. He used his knees to keep her legs wild open, even if one of them would get soaked with the blood that still poured from her open wound, giving him full view of her pinky slit.

He gave himself a few strokes, stimulating his manhood to what he knew was about to happen. Then, he stroked it several times against her entrance, knowing that the more he prolonged, the more he tortured her, even if the waiting was killing him as well.

"Please…" she begged one last time, before he thrusted her for the first time. Clara began crying even more than before, letting out groans of crucial pain. A pain she didn't knew existed until now. She hurt so badly that her body tried to shut down, only to be brought back to reality every time he pounded against her. Her lungs burned inside her chest as her cries almost made impossible for them to get the air they required.

Clara grabbed onto the metal bars right above her head, holding onto them as tightly as she could, in vain attempts to focus herself in something other than what was happening right below her waist. She looked at him in the eyes the whole time, her own showing all the fear and repugnance she held for the mankind at that moment.

He kept mouthing four letter words the whole way through. His movements became faster and harder as his climax approached, and he strongly held her down with his hands, one right next to her breast, the other right on her butt cheeks, casually squeezing them as well. He felt as good as he hadn't in a long time.

Clara's grip over the grid was so tight that she felt one of them swift under her, and then she knew. She twisted the pole under her fingers just enough so she could feel it breaking apart from the bed structure. She knew her angle wasn't the most convenient, but it would have to do. That was the only chance she got.

He just kept pushing himself deeper inside of her.

She moved as little as possible.

He was on verge of reaching and orgasm.

She took advantage of the fact he wasn't paying attention to her.

He was close. _So close_.

She had one chance. _One chance only._

Holding onto the metal bar for dear life, she focused all her strength – if she still had any – on her arms. With one movement only, she hit his head as hard as she could. Luckily, it had been enough to make him lose hold of her. Then, she hit him again.

The man fell off from her to the floor almost immediately. Clara couldn't control her anger no more as she hit him in the back of the neck with an amount of force she didn't know she had, which led him to unconsciousness.

The bed post fell from her hands, and for the first time, her emotions took control over her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any feedback is much appreciated :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been asked how come no over heard Clara, so I thought I should lay that out for everyone. It's a big submarine, and I assume the dorm rooms are pretty much far from the working parts of the sub, therefore no matter how much she screamed, the chances of her being heard were quite slim. I hope this has cleared any doubts.

Clara’s whole body trembled.

She didn’t know what to do next. What were people supposed to do after being brutally attacked? After they had been violated in the worst way possible? She couldn’t catch her breath, the adrenaline was still running through her veins, her heart threatening to jump out of her chest.

She looked down at the unconscious form of her attacker on the floor and she felt like throwing up. She despised that man with all of her being, and she was surprised she had been able to stop hitting him with the metal bar, because she wanted him _dead._ She should be feeling bad about such a desire, but she just didn’t care.

Moving slowly, but not so slowly so she wouldn’t risk him coming back to himself while she was still in the room, Clara knelt next to him, his body still showing his flesh. She felt disgustingly ill as she searched his pockets for the door key and she thanked all kinds of gods once she felt her fingers wrap around the tiny object.

She dragged herself across the floor, even if her whole body screamed for her to stop moving. She picked up her trousers from the bed foot, painfully struggling to put them back on. She was already too ashamed; she didn’t want to go out naked as well. _And her inner tights burned at the touch of the fabric,_ and so did the cut in her leg, but she carried on nonetheless.

Clara shot a look at her t-shirt, but it was so destroyed she didn’t even bother herself going after it. Then, she crawled towards the door, leaving a blood trait wherever her now useless leg passed by. And it took all of what was left of her strength to get back up, even if she still used the wall for balance.

Her hands still shook terribly as she tried to put the key on the lock, taking several times to actually succeed it and unlock the door. She took a long and deep breath before taking her first step out of the room, only to stumble over her own feet until she reached the opposite wall.

Clara walked down the narrow aisle, her leg still being dragged as an useless limp. It took all of her not to just give up, fall to the floor and cry herself to oblivion. _She just wanted to forget._ But at the same time, the thought of the sailor walking up to her and coming after her made her so scared she couldn’t stop walking.

“Ma’am?”

She froze. She almost stopped breathing. As much as she desperately wanted to get away from _him,_ she wasn’t expecting to run into any other soldier on her way to find the Doctor. She felt exposed, naked, even if she still got her bra and trousers on. She wanted to disappear. “Get away from me,” her voice was lower than a whisper.

“Ma’am?” the young man called out for her once more, debating whether he should approach her or not.

“ _Get away from me!”_ this time she yelled. She tried to hide her bare skin with her arm, the one she wasn’t using for balance, but it didn’t do her much. She heard him scream to somebody, but she couldn’t quite understand what he was saying, except for the word _doctor._

“Clara, I’m not going anywhere near you. But I’m not leaving you alone either, are you okay with this?” he asked her, still allowing her a choice, trying to give her as much control over the situation as he could.

Clara nodded, thankful for his kindness. She could see in his eyes that he held no hostility, that his intentions were pure, _that he didn’t look at her like a piece of meat,_ but the simple thought of a man getting close to her, touching her frightened her to death.

She was tired, _weak,_ and her eyelids were starting get heavy. During a glimpse, her good leg betrayed her, bending down at her, what caused her to fall to the floor, her grip over the wall not being strong enough to hold her standing. She let out a painful cry, but the soldier kept true to his promise of remaining distant, even if it wasn’t of his nature to simply stay back when there was someone down right in front of him.

“ _Clara!_ ”

Clara looked up, trying to discover where the sound of the Doctor’s voice had come from. She hadn’t been traveling with him for that long, but she felt like she had known him forever, and she knew he was the one person who would never cause her warm.

Her lower lip started trembling as she tried to keep up with her breathing. Her blood pressure suddenly spiced up, and she didn’t want him to see her no more, not like this. He would see her as _weak,_ he would drop her back on Earth and never look back. She became even more terrified.

“Clara…!” the Doctor’s voice was full of worry the moment he saw her fragile form wrapped in a corner against the wall. She looked so small so scared, _so humiliated,_ all he wanted was to wrap her in a blanket and protect her from all the harm in the universe.

He ran towards her as he took off his coat, kneeling down next to her, he wrapped her exposed body in his clothing, and he could tell she was grateful for it, even if she refused to look at him in the eyes.

Not being able to give her the time and space she so obviously needed, the Doctor tugged her in his arms. Clara didn’t fight him off, though, instead she gave in all her body to him, so tired she let herself rely completely on him. Lucky for her, he didn’t mind it, he seemed willing to take care of her without an argument.

“Doctor…” she cried against his white-collar shirt. Her body thanked her for the lack of movement, but it didn’t stop hurting. Even if her physical pain wasn’t half as bad as the emotional one.

“You’re safe now, Clara, no one can hurt you anymore,” he assured her, still sensing her shaking in his arms. His hearts ached at the woman so strong, _so broken,_ and he made a silence promise that whoever hurt her would pay a high price.

He held her tightly, but careful not to distress her nor to make her injuries hurt any more. He tried to study her wounds with his eyes, but she had done a good job in crawling herself in a fetal position, taking all the visibility from him. He could feel a hot liquid stain his trousers, _her blood,_ but he couldn’t tell where it was coming from.

“I just want to go home. _Please,_ take me home, Doctor,” she begged, grabbing onto his clothes as she gasped for air. A stream of tears ran freely on her pale cheeks, one that she didn’t care about. She was already feeling like the weakest person alive, a few spared tears wouldn’t make her any stronger.

His soul ached at her request. She had never requested anything from him, but he couldn’t give her the one thing she wanted. And Clara had already done so much for him, _sacrificed_ herself twice already to save _him,_ but he couldn’t retrieve her the favor. Not right then, at least. “I’m sorry, Clara. I’m so sorry.”

Clara tugged her face even deeper into his chest, her tears wetting his shirt. She could feel the crew’s eyes on her, and if she were alone, she was sure she would be terrified to death, but she felt like the Doctor’s arms were the safest place she could ever be.

_“Restrain that little bitch! The crazy girl bloody attacked me!”_

For the first time since the Doctor got to her, Clara looked up. She stared at his blued eyes full of rage, full of revenge, and yet they looked at her with nothing but love and compassion. She didn’t have to use her words to communicate with him in that moment.

The Doctor dove himself into her glare. Her eyes were bright but not from the spark they usually held, but from the tears reflected on them. They were wild and big, and showed all he needed to see; her fear, her despair, her pain, and he knew. He knew that was the man who had turned her life into hell. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

“ _No,_ no, don’t leave me,” her voice took life of its own and she clung onto him as strongly as she could, too scared to be let go, to be left alone, but he managed to get out of her hold anyway. The Doctor felt terrible for leaving her behind, a part of him dying when he saw her crawling herself in an even smaller form the moment he _abandoned_ her, but this was something he needed to do.

The Doctor walked towards the accusing soldier, taking a good look at his injuries. _That’s my girl,_ he thought to himself, seeing how hurt and bloody his face was. Clara was a fighter, a warrior, and for the first time since he found her, he knew she would be okay.

Not right away, but she would.

“She _attacked_ you?” his words were full of furry, one he didn’t know he had. “Is that your cover story? A 5’2 thin girl came onto you for no reason at all? I don’t know, _mate,_ but there might be something twisted about your storytelling.”

The soldier clinched his fists together. “I don’t know what she’s told you, but she’s clearly lying.”

The Doctor couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He started with a punch to his already wounded face. “You’re calling her a liar?!” another one, this time into his stomach. “You’re the liar one, Kricevsky,” he said his name with disgust. And then, another punch. “You! Don’t get! To play the victim here!”

He was so mad, _so angry_ he couldn’t stop hitting and kicking him. Two other soldiers tried to get him off the guilty sailor, with no use. He had no plans of stopping until he was either dead or hanging by a threat.

“Doctor…” it was Clara’s voice that made him stop dead in his tracks. It was like a scared child’s plead, one that broke his hearts in pieces. He hadn’t heard such a voice call for him since the last of Time Wars.

He turned around to get back to her, surprised to find her standing. The tray of tears on her cheeks were more clear than never, and he could tell she was giving all of herself to simply stand there. He took a step in her direction, but he didn’t expect her to flinch back, an expression of pure terror in her face.

_She was afraid of him._

He couldn’t blame her, she had the right to be scared after all she had just been through, regardless of what had happened during the struggle. But he could blame himself. The Doctor hated himself for taking down the soldier right in front of her, the violence clearly triggering her.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Clara, I promise.”

Clara nodded, without actually getting rid of her expression. She knew his words were true, she had no rational reason to be afraid of him, then, why was she? And she hated herself so much for that that her legs started to tremble underneath her.

He rushed to her side, catching her just before she stumbled down at her own feet. He lifted her from the floor, carrying her in both his arms, careful not to let his coat fall off from her. Her whole body trembled against his, and Clara hid her face in his shoulder, in shame of being unable to control both her brain and body.

The Doctor didn’t care, though. He knew her reactions were simply _human._ “You don’t have to worry anymore, Clara. I’ll take care of you, I’ll keep you safe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any feedback is much appreciated :)


	4. Chapter 4

The Doctor carefully laid Clara in bed.

One of the younger sailors, Piotr, had been kind enough to let them use his quarters, both him and the alien man knowing it wouldn't be good to take her back to the room that it all had happened, even if they were still uncertain about what had really occurred.

Clara was silent. She hadn't uttered a single word since the moment the Doctor picked her up in his own arms. She simply stared blankly at some random point in space, but he doubted her mind was focusing on anything happening at her surroundings. From the way she held tightly onto his shirt, from the color of her face, he knew she was reliving every single moment of the events of the last hour.

"Clara," he called for her, trying to get her to look at him, but failing. It seemed like she was ashamed _of herself._ "I need to take care of your injuries."

Clara nodded her head, so slightly it was barely noticeable. She stood perfectly still, too scared to move and cause herself even more hurting. She waited for his next moves. "Now, we're two days away from the TARDIS, and there's no infirmary on board, but I'll do my best to relieve you from the pain."

She closed her eyes. She didn't mind the physical pain that much, she knew that would soon fade away. The emotional pain, however, she doubted it'd ever leave her side.

The Doctor was starting to grow worried at her lack of words. He knew she was still in shock, but Clara had always been such a chatty person, not only her but all her other _hers_ as well. And he was afraid to do anything in the risk of scaring her off, in the fear of doing more harm than good.

Gently, he caressed her in the head, careful not to alarm her. He was knelt down next to her petite figure in the tiny bunk, just so their heads could be at the same height. "Talk to me, Clara."

He saw her lips fall open, but no sound came out of them. It was like her words had faded away from her. He noticed a single tear fall from the corner of her eye to the cold hard mattress. He could tell that she was hurting and yet she tried to remain as strong as she could be. He took a deep breath, "Alright, you don't need to talk, but I still need to take care of you, Clara."

It was when he moved his attention to his sonic that she spoke her first words, on a whisper that could barely be heard, "There's nothing to be said."

The Doctor was caught on surprise by her words, especially after he had let her know it was okay to be silent. He dropped the screwdriver next to her. "There are lots of things to be said, Clara, lots of things to be felt," he kept repeating her name, something what would have had annoyed her under normal circumstances. "You're allowed to say them, to feel them, no one will think any less of you because of it."

Clara buried her head even deeper into the soft pillow, "I don't feel anything."

The Doctor nodded, gently taking her hand in his. "It's okay. You're probably still in shock, I'm sure—”

But she interrupted him, "I don't want to feel anything," she confessed, her voice hoarse and raspy, "I don't want it to hurt."

He lifted her hand, lovingly kissing the knuckles of her fingers. He wanted to take away all her pain away, he didn't want her to hold all that suffering inside of her. "I know, I don't want you to hurt, either, but I'm afraid you're going to, anyway. And I'll be here with you for every step of the way. I promise you, Clara."

Still, she refused to make eye contact. She knew she would let it all out if she dared to stare into the compassion of his ocean eyes. "I... I can't go back home looking like this."

"You don't have to go back to her time right away," he told her. "The TARDIS is your home as well. You can stay there as much as you'd like to."

"I-I don't want to be a burden," her pale cheeks blushed. "Besides, I don't think the TARDIS would enjoy having me around for so long."

"You would _never_ be a burden, you hear me? _Never_ ," his voice was harsh, but not cruel or rude. "And don't mind what the TARDIS thinks, she's just very jealous and possessive."

Clara tried to laugh, but failed. "Doctor?" she called him shyly, "I don't know how this works. I mean, what happened is in the past, _years_ before I was even born. So, how am I supposed to go back and be okay with something that happened thirty years back in time, even if it's just happened to me?"

He wanted nothing more than to hold her, to tug her in his arms, but from the way her body looked tense laid back in bed, he knew she needed her space more than anything. "It doesn't matter _when_ it's happened, you're still allowed to feel it until whenever you think you're okay with what happened."

"I don't... I don't think I'll ever be okay with this, Doctor," another tear ran down her cheek, and her breathing increased noticeably; the initial shock was starting to wear off. "What that man did to me makes me feel so disgusting I doubt I'll ever stop feeling _so_ _dirty_."

"It takes time, but you will. You're so strong, Clara, _so_ _strong_ , I know you can go through whatever the universe throws at you."

She would have laughed at his words if her jaw didn't hurt at the muscle movement. "I'm not strong, I'm bloody weak. I'm a pathetic joke who couldn't even get a man off me."

Although she hadn't been clear of the events that led her to that dark place, the Doctor was starting to get a view of the whole picture. " _No_ , you aren't weak, you will never be. Just because he did an awful thing to you, it doesn't mean you're a _pathetic_ _joke_. You're a survivor, Clara."

Clara's eyes looked down at their held hands. "Doctor?"

"Yes, Clara, I'm right here."

He watched he chest rising up and down. "My leg is really bothering me."

The Doctor nodded. "Okay, let's take a look at it."

Clara's heart raced at what she knew would come next. She knew he would have to remove the trousers in order to assist her wound, and then she would feel even more exposed. "Wait... I'm not wearing any underwear..."

The Doctor gave her hand a squeeze. "You don't have to worry, I won't do anything without your consent, I won't do anything that will make you feel any uncomfortable."

Clara gave him a silent consent, still keeping her eyes in him. She watched him as he tore apart her trousers, just at the height of her injury, midway through her tight. Quickly, he went to the bathroom to get some warm water, but was back before his absence could scare her off.

Kindly, he started to clean off the blood from her leg. From the way she pulled back her body, he could tell that it was hurting. "I'm sorry, I wish I could help you with the pain."

"It's alright," she clung into the sheets beneath her strongly. "How bad does it look?"

He scanned it with the sonic screwdriver. "Not much. The cut didn't reach any major arteries, so apart from a little difficulty to walk for the first few days, it's going to heal in one piece."

He was careful while wrapping the wounded leg into a piece of fabric, not leaving it too tight to threaten her circulation but not too lose, either. Just enough to restrain any infections. "Where else is it bothering you?"

_Her_ _soul_ , Clara wanted to say, but the Doctor was being so kind to her she didn't want to seem ungrateful. "My head... I have a headache."

The Doctor moved back up to her head, laying the warm wet cloth over her forehead. "Does this feel better?" She nodded. He touched her jaw carefully, it being a dark shade of purple. He wished there wasn't any mirrors in the submarine, so she wouldn't be able to look at herself. She didn't need such an image stuck in her head.

"And my arm..." she looked away. "H-he twisted it behind my back."

Slowly, he pulled up the sleeve from his coat that she was still wearing. She had it wrapped herself tightly, as if she were ashamed of any shown skin. He raised her arm in the air, scanning it as well. "Your elbow isn't broken or anything, it's just bruised."

He laid it back atop if her torso, trying his best not to distress her any further. He waited for her to tell where else it hurt, but she remained silent. The Doctor tried to join her in a compassionate silence, but he couldn't, "Clara... I know you don't want to talk about what happened, and I’m not trying to force you, but, perhaps, talking about it might make you feel better. You don't have to bottle it all up."

Clara tried to sit up, but her heavy wounded leg made the simple task terribly difficult, so the Doctor had to help her, even if she could see it in his eyes that he would rather her to remain laid down. "I... I don't know what to say. How to say."

The Doctor sat down in the edge of the bed, still making sure there was a fine distance between them. "Just get it all out, Clara. It doesn't matter if it's cruel, or brutal, or heartless, or inhuman. You don't have to be ashamed over something you had no control."

Clara pulled her good leg up to her chest, awkwardly hugging it and laying her non-bruised cheek on top of it. "I feel d-dirty."

He nodded. "Do you want to take a shower?"

She agreed, still taking a few seconds to actually start moving. And the Doctor made sure to wrap his arms around her torso once she did, just to help her walk and guarantee that her leg wouldn't betray her and lead her to the floor.

"I can take it from here," she told him once they had reached the bathroom door. Her eyes showed a determination that wasn't there for the past hour or so.

He was reluctant at first to let her go, but he did it because he knew she needed as much control as possible. "Alright, you... I'll be right here if you need anything, _anything_ at all."

She nodded again, before heading inside and closing the door at him.


	5. Chapter 5

The Doctor patiently waited for her, just outside the bathroom.

He could hear the shower running, but that was it. No sound of sobs, no sound of painful moans, no sound of casual humming. And that worried him, nothing good could come from silence in a situation like that.

He knew everyone had their own way of coping with trauma, but she had been so calm ever since she was first found. He looked at her and he saw nothing, like she was blocking everything she was feeling, which couldn’t be good for her emotional state. She needed to start _feeling_.

The doctor shrugged to himself, thinking of how her emotional would most likely never be the same again, and he couldn’t blame her. No matter how much she’d recover from that night – he knew she would – part of her would _always_ remember that pain and the fear she felt that night. He wished more than anything he could take away those memories.

He heard the sound of the water come to an end and he straightened up. She didn’t come out right away as he assumed she would, and it killed him not knowing what she was doing in there, if she were crying or simply staring at the blank, if she were looking at herself in the mirror or _barely breathing._

It was a matter of ten minutes of him simply staring at the door until she came out. Clara had a big and fluffy towel wrapped around her tiny frame, hiding away her bare skin from chest to knees. Her hair was wet, fallen in a big mess down to her shoulder. She limped in his direction, in a silent request for him to help her walk towards the bed.

The Doctor helped her sit down, noticing her body trembling from what he assumed was the chill air. He reached out to grab the brand clothes one of the sailors had offered them. “I’m sorry, they are quite bigger than the ones you were wearing before.”

“It’s okay,” she mumbled, waiting for him to turn his back so she could dress up. The shirt was so big it landed almost down her knees, suiting her as a dress. She put on her underwear, the one the Doctor had been kind enough to retrieve from the captain’s quarters, and even though her skin burned at the touch with the soft fabric, she felt a little less exposed with them. After, she tried to stand in order to get the trousers on, but her leg ached after standing so long in the shower.

“Doctor…” she called out for him. She waited for him to turn around, but he never did. “I can’t… I can’t put on the trousers.”

Slowly, he walked back to her, focusing his eyes on hers so she wouldn’t feel violated by his stare. He awkwardly retrieved the trousers from her before kneeling down in front of her. He could tell she was feeling extremely uncomfortable, even if he had seen her bare legs before whenever she wore a dress. He couldn’t blame her, though.

He helped her stand, allowing her to lean her weight onto him, just so he could pull the sweat pants up her waist. The Doctor couldn’t help himself but to glare at her bruised inner tights, and he felt the tears come up to his own eyes, because he didn’t doubt no more what had happened. _She had been sexually assaulted._

Without being able to hold himself back, he pulled her into his arms. Clara seemed frightened at first, but soon she gave herself to him, tugging herself into his chest. She didn’t cry, she didn’t utter a sound, she just held tightly onto him, too scared to let go.

“Oh, my Clara,” he cried her name against her hair, willingly taking all her body weight, which wasn’t much anyway, relieving her from all the effort she was putting into a simple task as standing. He didn’t mind it; he would hold her like that until the end of times if that was what she needed.

“I’m tired,” her voice was muffed by his white shirt, but he heard her anyway. She sounded like a helpless child, so scared to give up but too weak to carry on, even if he knew she wasn’t either.

“Alright, let’s get you in bed,” he lifted her from the floor and carefully laid her back in bed. He covered her with the thin blanket there displayed. “You just rest, Clara. I’ll be here the whole time.”

She refused to close her eyes, instead she just stared into his. “Can you… Can you just lie here with me for a-a while?”

The Doctor was surprised with her request. “I—"

Clara blushed with embarrassment, trying to bury her face into the pillow until she disappeared. “I’m sorry, forget I asked.”

But he couldn’t, he wouldn’t. Leaving an eye on her, in awareness of any body indicators, he joined her in the small bunk, his chest facing her back, but without touching her. He didn’t want to set off any triggers.

Clara awkwardly turned her body to be face with face with him, even if she restrained herself from reinitiating the eye contact. “Doctor, I…”

The Doctor knew she would try to give him an explanation for her requests, so he just shook his head. “I don’t mind being here, you can let down your guard now. I’ll protect you.”

She agreed. “Could you… Could you hold my hand?” her voice came out, lower than a whisper, as if she were ashamed of her requests.

He took her hand into his without any further notice, and from the way she finally closed her eyelids, he could tell the simple touch had made her calm, perhaps even less scared to the danger that inhabited the submarine. He remained silent.

“I’m afraid to fall asleep,” she confessed. Her eyes were back open and fixed in a random dot in the bed sheet, her heart pounding against her at the words that were bound to come out next, “Every time I close my eyes, I’m back in the room being haunted _by him_.”

The Doctor tightened his grip around her hand. “You’re not there anymore, Clara. You’re safe, no one can get to you here. The man who did this to you is restrained and so he’ll be until we get back to the TARDIS. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

“And then, what?” she wondered, trying to approach her body to his, but still despising any kind of human physical contact. “Once we’re out of here, he’ll go back to his normal life, no punishments at all about what he did to me. And I’m left here, barely breathing, suffocating from the actions he did today. He may be guilty but I’m the one suffering the consequences.”

“I get that you’re hurting, and you have every right to be, Clara, but you can’t let that get to your head. We don’t know what the universe has on plate for him, perhaps he will still pay a high price to what he’s done. Besides, you’ve left him a pretty nasty scare, and every time he looks at the mirror, he will be remembered of his actions.”

“But what about my scars, Doctor?” her voice became a little unsteady. “Once we’re back in 2013, it will have passed over thirty years since the day he ruined my life, this will be lost in oblivion. It will have passed 30 years and it will still be fresh on my mind, this scar will always be in me.”

He kept waiting for her to start crying, but she never did. Her voice was raspy, but her eyes remained dry. “You’re strong, Clara, I know for a fact that you will get through this.”

She swallowed hard. “I don’t know how does one get over being _raped_ ,” her last two words never making it past her lips.

His hearts ached at her words. That was the first time she was admitting what had happened and he knew it hadn’t been easy. He wanted to wrap her in his arms again, but he knew she wasn’t okay with it just yet. “You feel like you can’t move on from your assault, you feel like your life is stuck in that room, but it’s not. I know it feels impossible, but one day, you’re going to be able to look back and not hurt from the memories. Eventually, you’re going to be okay, not with what happened, but with yourself.”

She tried to hide her face, embarrassed with her foolishness. “I’m sorry, I…”

“ _No,_ Clara, you’ve got nothing to be sorry about, you hear me? _Nothing_ ,” his tone was harsh, but sweet nonetheless. “You’re not at fault for one man’s evil, you said _no,_ and he is a coward for not listening to you.”

Clara sniffed, turning his head to look at his eyes for the first time. “It’s not fair.”

“It’s not, the universe isn’t fair.” The Doctor nodded. “But we’ve got to learn how to live among it anyway, among all the cruelness, among all the evilness.”

“Doesn’t that cruelness suffocate you?”

“That’s why I travel across time and space, Clara,” he explained. “To get rid of the evil as much as I can. It’s a dangerous job, but somebody’s got to do it anyway.”

For the first time, she ceased the distance between them, hiding her face in his shoulders. “I don’t want to stop traveling with you, but I’m so scared, Doctor, so scared of what could happen next.”

The Doctor ran his fingers through her hair. “You don’t have to rush into any decisions. Right now, just focus on breathing, that’s all that matters for now. I’m not going to simply throw you back on Earth in your time because you are hurt, you don’t have to worry about this.”

Clara wrapped her arms around his neck, enjoying the physical warmth, even if his body were remarkably cold. “Will you stay here with me? Just until I fall asleep…”

She didn’t have to ask twice. “I’m not going anywhere, Clara, you can rest peacefully and I’ll be here when you wake up.”

She allowed her eyelids to close, listening to his heartbeats as an assurance he was still there. Soon enough, the exhausting took over her body, and, as promised, the Doctor didn’t leave her side even for a brief second.


	6. Chapter 6

It had been two days since the attack.

Clara hadn’t been sleeping well, not since the brutal attack of hers, even if the Doctor cradled and rocked her to sleep every night. The nightmares would always come to haunt her.

For her own sake, the submarine was finally coming up to surface, having them reached the South Pole base. She couldn’t wait to feel the sun in her skin, to see the daylight. She was starting to feel claustrophobic after so long in close quarters, she couldn’t even breathe anymore.

However, she hadn’t left the borrowed dorm room since she was assaulted. Not because the Doctor had insisted she stayed indoors, which he had, but because she felt a little more protected in there. And the Doctor hadn’t left her side ever since, except when he went to get her food and water, even if those moments made her feel nauseous, and those brief moments of loneliness were the worst. Whenever she was alone, her brain would take her back to the worst moment of her life, and she would crawl herself in a corner in pure fear until he would come back and talk her out of her own mind.

Clara was wearing the blue dress she had arrived the sub with, along with her heels. She felt exposed with that piece of clothing, she felt like _an easy prey_ , not to mention she had no idea how she would walk in those heels with a limp limb. She was just relieved to be going home, whether it was her room in the Maitland’s or just back to the TARDIS.

“So, I was just talking with the captain,” the Doctor walked into the room, carrying a glass of water she had requested what seemed to be hours before, “And he assured me the man who—” he cleared his throat, “—who attacked you is locked up in the basement, and so he’ll be until we reach the surface in twelve minutes and twenty-four seconds, twenty-three seconds, twenty-two seconds.”

Clara simply nodded. She was sitting at the edge of the bed, one leg crossed over the other, hands together on her lap, most likely out of phase with her surroundings. “Clara?”

She looked up, her lips half opened. “Um? I’m fine.”

He sat next to her, not too close, not too far, the glass of water awkwardly going from his hands to hers. “Just breathe, Clara.”

So she did. “I am breathing.”

Hesitantly, he gave her shoulder a slight squeeze. Luckily, she didn’t seem to mind nor to be alarmed with his gestures. “You’re doing better than you think.”

She laid her head on his shoulder, not bothering herself asking him because she knew he didn’t mind either. “I’m just relieved we’re finally getting out of here.”

He gave her a gentle squeeze. “Me too. Got this very nice place on my mind, it’s very quiet and peaceful, over their million years of existence, they never once had a war, and I don’t know but maybe we could visit it, if you feel like it, that is.”

Clara smiled at this attempt to make her feel better. “That sounds lovely, yeah.”

“Good,” he said in excitement, before getting out of her embrace and standing up. “Now, we should get going. You know, it might take a while to get to the top of the submarine with your leg hurt and I don’t want to spend a single second more in here than I have to be.”

Part of her knew he was doing that just for her wellbeing, and she was thankful for it. Reluctantly, she accepted his hand, grabbing it tightly once she realized how hard it would be for her to remain balanced whilst walking in those shoes.

He was quick to put his arm under her armpit, giving her the balance she needed. He could only imagine how much the pain was bothering her, since she refused to talk about it. That didn’t stop him from asking, though, “How much does your leg hurt?”

“Don’t worry about it,” she mumbled under her breath, trying to hide how out of breath she was. “It’s fine.”

The Doctor rolled his eyes, even if she couldn’t see it. “You know, it’s okay to ask for help.”

“I did ask for help,” she argued. “I’m still clung to you, aren’t I.”

He chose not to cross her words. “Do you want me to carry you? I mean, this way you wouldn’t overweigh your leg and we’d still get to the top sooner.”

“Doctor,” she alarmed him.

“Alright, alright, I’m shutting up now.”

She was glad for the brief seconds of silence, even if his chatty self couldn’t keep it for long, “Admitting you’re in pain doesn’t make you any weaker, but you know that, right?”

It was her turn to roll her eyes. “You really aren’t going to put this behind you, are you.”

He cringed his teeth together. “I’m sorry, I can’t, I’ve got OCD.”

Clara chuckled at his excuses, before sighing. She knew he wouldn’t settle off until he got some answers. “It’s sore… And it bothers me to walk especially in these bloody heels.”

After hearing her words, the Doctor basically took all her weight from her, regardless of any future protests. “Sore? Clara, you’ve got stabbed in the leg, it’s supposed to be more than _sore_.”

“It’ll be fine, I wouldn’t worry too much,” Clara looked away, trying to bury the subject. She was lucky the wound hadn’t become infected due to the lack of medical care, and she could only pray she wouldn’t be suffering consequences of the injury for the rest of her life.

“Yes, you will be fine, I’ve got some fine medicine in the TARDIS that will get your leg back in perfect shape,” he rambled, more to himself than to her, because he was sure she had stopped listening a long before. “But this is the present, and your leg is hurting right now, and it’s okay to complain about it for a while. It’s okay to complain about it all, Clara, because you haven’t at all for the past two days.”

“I don’t want to complain, I’m feeling alright,” she tried, again, to drop the matter.

The Doctor shook his head. He didn’t understand humans; if they were perfectly ok, they would find something to cry about, but if they weren’t alright, they would repeat over and over they were fine, their words only contradicting themselves. “If I stop helping you walk, will you start complaining? Just a little bit.”

She shivered beneath his touch; she didn’t want to endure the pain that walking would cause her. “Are you? Going to let go of me?”

He made a face. “Well, no, I don’t want you hurt yourself.”

Clara offered him a smirk. “Then I guess you’ll never find you, will you.”

They were so distracted with their bantering, Clara didn’t even notice they were halfway through the sub already. Probably because she leaned onto him so badly he was doing all the effort of moving. She wouldn’t complain about that of all things.

“Doctor?” she called out for him, softly, almost as if she were embarrassed of the words that were yet to come. “Can we stop by the console before we go? I’d like to say goodbye to the professor before we go.”

“Whatever you want, Clara,” he agreed.

She swallowed down, her oxygen stuck in her airway. “But… But I don’t want to come across any of the sailors.”

He held her close. “He’s not going to be there, Clara. Besides, I’ll be with you the whole time through.”

Her breathing pattern became a little faster. “I know, I know, it’s silly. It’s just… The simple thought of going near a sailor takes me back to the moment he _forced_ himself into me,” her words faded as her sentence came to an end.

Even if her tone was lower than a whisper, he heard her. She was past the stage of denial, it had ended the moment she first told him about the sexual attack in aloud words, but she was nowhere near the stage of acceptance, not just yet. “It’s not silly, Clara, it’s a rational fear. You’re traumatized, you’re allowed to feel frightened.”

She shrugged. “I hate feeling frightened, Doctor, fear makes me weak.”

“No, it doesn’t,” he objected, “Fear makes you human.”

They both stopped at the closed door of the console room, the Doctor internal clock saying they were two minutes due to arrival. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t feel ready, Clara.”

“Yes, I do,” she argued, “The professor has been nothing but kind to me.”

He moved his body so they could both look at each other’s eyes. “Alright, let’s do this. But if I think you’re even remotely uncomfortable, or triggered, or distressed, I’m getting you out of there.”

Clara agreed, watching him as he turned the knob over with his hand and not the screwdriver, which was a first. He walked in first, still guiding her by the hand, even if she was standing on her own.

Clara walked up to the spot the old man was standing. While they both shared their goodbyes, the Doctor kept a permanent frown upon his almost non-existential brows, enough to scare the soldiers in the corner of the room. He watched as his companion awkwardly sent thanks to the captain, even if she kept her distance.

He took her by the arm once she was done. Although he had told himself he wouldn’t say anything, he couldn’t hold himself, “For your information, _no means no_. I know this is the 80s, and you’re all just beginning your lives, but don’t ever ignore a woman like your _buddy_ has; it doesn’t undignifies her, she’s strong, she’ll overcome your actions, it undignifies _you_. So, take this little advice from an alien man who’s lived for over 1200 years, her voice is just as equal as yours, perhaps even greater, so don’t you ever diminish a woman, or the universe will get back to you.”

Clara looked down, knowing that even though he was referring to women in general, he had her on his mind. Even if she had no reason to feel embarrassed about, she wanted to disappear. “Come on, Clara,” he moved his attention back to her, “Let’s get out of here.”


	7. Chapter 7

They finally reached the outside world.

It was cold, terribly cold, but not too cold for the South Pole. Clara had plans to enjoy the sun on her skin, but the idea went down the hill the moment the cold air touched the bare skin of her legs and arms. The Doctor picked her up by the waist and rushed to inside the Russian base.

Although there were some Russian officers inside the artificially warmed up cabin, the Doctor made sure to wander right past them without a single word, just following towards a room captain Zhukov had told them about in which they could be alone.

“Doctor, where is the TARDIS?” Clara asked him innocently, as he led her inside some room she didn’t know about.

He helped her sit down in a puffy chair, before retrieving the sonic screwdriver from the inner pocket of his coat. “Ummmm, somewhere ahead of us, about sixty miles away.”

“Sixty?” she almost gasped. “That’s a very long walk.”

“I know,” he agreed in joy, overly excited about the opportunity to move his body after staying for so long inside the confined submarine.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to walk that much, not in this leg, anyway. Besides, these aren’t exactly South Pole clothes,” she argued.

“What?!” his eyes grew wild, “You’re not going with me. Nope. Not at all.”

Clara started to panic with his words. She tried to get up, but she fell right back to the chair. “Please, don’t leave me here alone. _Please, Doctor._ ”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he knelt down in front of her, taking a hold of her hands. They were cold, perhaps even closer than his. “You don’t have to be afraid, Clara. I have a time machine, remember? You won’t even miss me.”

She looked down, a little ashamed of her own fears. “The TARDIS... She’s not good at going where you need her to…”

The Doctor laughed slightly. “I’ll ask her to be nice.”

Clara nodded, still unable to move her eyes from her lap. She knew it was an irrational fear, not all men in the world were out to get her, and she trusted the Doctor to be back before anything could happen, but that didn’t make her feel any better. After what that man had done to her, she doubted she would ever be able to trust a man entirely again.

“Clara? Talk to me, Clara,” he called out for her, the sad expression on her face making him feel guilty about leaving her behind.

“I… I know it’s a stupid fear, but I’m scared, Doctor. I’m not frightened of being alone, I’m frightened of the consequences of being alone. The simple thought that there are _men_ in the next room makes me sick to my stomach,” she confessed, her blood rushing through her veins.

The Doctor looked for something inside the pocket of his coat. Then, he was putting a pocket clock into her hands. “Here. This is my promise to you that I’ll be back in no time. Take it.”

Reluctantly, she took a grip of it. Her eyes didn’t move away from the clock hands anymore. “Alright.”

The Doctor stood up, planting a kiss at the top of her head. “Look at the clock; count to ten. Then, I’ll be back.”

She agreed, not taking her eyes off the clock as he left the room. She could hear him looking the door with his sonic, for her reassurance that she wasn’t in any danger. Finally, she started to count, just like he had instructed her.

One. Two. Ten.

He didn’t arrive at the time he had promised, but Clara didn’t let herself panic right away, though. She wasn’t that kind of girl who wasn’t able to stay more than one minute away from a male companion, no matter what trauma she had been through.

Thirty-three.

She wanted to take her eyes to another point in space, but she couldn’t. she knew her mind would take her somewhere in which her worst fears and nightmares came true, so she chose to focus herself on the tick tock of the clock.

Sixty-seven.

Her eyes were growing large. She heard steps coming from the hallway, although she wasn’t sure if it were just her mind playing tricks on her. She hoped it was, because she never wanted to feel as frightened as she was the moment she was stuck in a room with the Russian soldier.

Seventy-one.

Clara started to sweat cold. She hated her mind and body for making her feel that way, but she wasn’t at fault – the Doctor had told her several times it wasn’t her fault and she was desperately trying to convince herself of the same. If she hadn’t been raped in the first place, she wouldn’t be feeling so on edge. She wished the Doctor could just go back in time and prevent her from being attacked, no matter what the consequences and paradoxes would be.

Eighty-five.

Finally, the TARDIS materialized itself in front of her. She let out a breath, feeling relieved that she could finally ease down. Next thing she knew, the Doctor’s half body popped off the door of the spaceship. “Miss me?”

Clara checked the clock one last time. “Ninety-one seconds, Doctor.”

The Doctor clutched his teeth together, giving his machine a little slap. “Sorry, she was being stubborn,” she offered her a hand to help her get up. “Are you okay?”

“Peachy,” she remarked, getting inside the spaceship, the one place in the universe where she knew she would be perfectly safe. “How I’ve missed this place.”

He rushed to the console, probably forgotten about her limp leg, but she didn’t complain as she joined him by the panel. “She missed you too, she just doesn’t like getting her true feelings out.”

Clara chuckled as he pulled down a level. “Where are we going?”

For once in their lives, the TARDIS was gently when she took off and landed somewhere. “I’m just parking somewhere that is not the 80s so we can take care of you.”

She nodded, before he grabbed her by the hand and guided her to the infirmary, one that the TARDIS had been kind enough to display right in the entrance of the corridors. Clara silently thanked her, knowing she would hear her anyway. Her leg had been sore since the moment she had climbed the stairs of the sub, and she prayed the Doctor would give her something for the pain.

“Lie down,” he instructed, helping her to hop up the tiny bed, one that was very similar to a hospital bed. The air was tense and she wasn’t sure why, but she wanted nothing more than to make a snarky comment to break the tension.

“Umm…” she cleared her throat, “I know that your name, title or whatever is Doctor, but are you really a _doctor,_ doctor?”

“Yes,” he assured her, going through the medicine cabinet. “Well, I did get a degree in the wrong century, but I usually don’t tell that to people because it tends to scare them off.”

She giggled at his words, watching him return to her side, holding a bunch of things she had no idea what they were. “What are those?”

“Oh, just a bunch of medical stuff. I got them from the most developed planets in the universe, at least when it comes to medicine, anyway.”

Clara seemed interested at that. “Do they have anything to fix the emotional?”

“I’m afraid not, Clara.”

She shot him a weak smile. “It was worth a try, wasn’t it?”

He laid the things down next to her. “Don’t be alarmed, but I’m going to pull up your dress skirt, just enough to see your wound, is that okay?”

Clara nodded, seeing the hesitation in his eyes while he did so. She watched him as he unwrapped the bandage around her leg, the not well healed red cut being exposed, one that she had avoided looking at for the past two days. She dreaded the idea of having a scar to remind her of what happened that night.

“This won’t hurt a bit,” he said, picking up something that looked like a syringe, but a little scarier. Then, she let out an _ouch_ when it touched her skin. “Sorry, I lied.”

She felt like punching him when he started to massage the sore area, but her eyes enlarged when the pain suddenly stopped. “Wha… What did you do?”

“It’s like a painkiller, except it’s got an unending lasting effect. I had to defeat a three-headed monster to get this.”

“Sounds tough.”

“It was,” he placed a cold pad on her upper tight. “Just leave it there, soon enough it will be completely healed.”

She rested her head against the pillow, waiting for whatever effect to kick in.

The Doctor moved up to her head, slightly touching her bruised cheek. “This doesn’t look so good, but I have something that will get you back in one piece.”

“Next time I take a fall down the stairs, I will surely come here for assistance,” she joked, even if it wasn’t a very amusing situation.

He smiled back. “Whatever you’d want, Clara,” he answered, before laying some cream across her skin. “Heh… Um, I…”

Clara frowned her brows. “What is it, Doctor?”

“This medicine can heal any bruises in a matter of minutes, so I was wondering if you, um… if you…” he cleared his throat, “…if you would like to get some on your inner legs.”

Clara blushed immediately, her mouth falling open. “I… It’s alright, y-you don’t need to worry.”

“You sure? Because, um, it could help. It wouldn’t bother you anymore,” he debated.

“Y-yeah,” she clinched her teeth together, “It’s almost healed, anyway.”

He nodded, deciding it would be best to just change the subject. “I assume you’d like some new clothes. I’m sure the TARDIS has some around here.”

She agreed, watching him look for them inside the drawers. “I just want to go home.”

His face was serious once he returned, carrying a sweater and sweat trousers in his hands. “I can take you home.”

She awkwardly retrieved them from his hands. “It’s just… I’m so thankful for everything you’ve done for me, I truly am, but I just need some normalcy right now.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Clara, I completely understand,” he assured her, removing the pad from her limp. “Alright, you’re good to go. Just get dressed that I’ll be waiting for you in the hall.”

Ten minutes later, they were both back at the console room. They were silent, both watching each other from the corner of their eyes. Soon, the TARDIS had landed in 2013 London. “There ya go; England, 21st century, two hours after you left.”

Clara didn’t move, though, “It just occurred to me that we’ve been gone so long I have no idea what I was doing when I left.”

The Doctor cracked a laugh, “If you want, we can pop up a few hours earlier and ask yourself that.”

She smiled briefly, but it faded away two seconds later. Although she knew she couldn’t see a past version of herself without causing a paradox, she couldn’t imagine meeting herself knowing a few days later she would be brutally attacked. “Doctor? Are you coming back?”

He froze at her question. “Do you want me to come back?”

Clara wrapped her arms around her own body. “Well, why wouldn’t I want you to?”

“Because,” he took a step closer to her, but not enough to end the distance between them. “If I hadn’t set the HADS on, you would have never gone through such a terrible experience.”

Hesitantly, she reached out for his hand. “You didn’t sexually assault me, Doctor, that sailor did. I don’t blame you for what happened. There are many things that took place so the attack would happen, but you’re not at fault.”

The Doctor strongly squeezed her hand. “You’re not at fault either, Clara.”

“I know,” she smiled sadly, even if she didn’t _truly_ believe his words. “My point is, we can’t live our lives based on the amount of _what ifs_ there are, and I’m sure you of all people know that. So, stop beating yourself up for something you had no control over.”

His weak smile met her sad one. “You’re stronger than you think you are, Clara.”

Her lips broke into the slightest hint of a smile. “I really hope you’re right, Doctor,” her voice was stuck in the back of her throat.

For the first time since he rescued her _that_ night, he saw a glimpse of a tear in the corner of her eyes, one that she refused to shed. “It’s okay to cry, it’s okay to let your emotions out.”

His voice was so sweet on her she didn’t know she would be able to hold it inside of her. “I don’t want to cry.”

“Crying doesn’t make you weak, Clara,” he gently caressed her in the hair.

She wanted to turn her eyes away, but she was so deep into his blue eyes she couldn’t. “I… I don’t…” she was unable to form words as a single tear ran down her cheek.

The Doctor didn’t bother wiping it away. Instead, he pulled her closer to him. “I’m just saying you’re allowed to feel, no one will think any less of you if you do.”

She kept staring into his eyes, the tears now long gone. Not because she had cried them, but because she had forced them away. “Doctor? Can I ask you something?”

He smiled for her. “Anything for you, Clara.”

“Promise you won’t say no?” she requested shyly, refusing to look away so he would see the truth beyond her words.

He nodded. “As long as it’s not a timey wimey thing, you have a word,” he waited for a giggle in return, but it never came.

Clara cleared her throat. “Can you… Can you kiss me?”

The Doctor’s jaw fell open.

“Not like that, just…” her color was turning red of embarrassment. “I don’t want _him_ to be the last person who has kissed me, although I wouldn’t quite call it kissing, but anyway, I don’t think I’m that comfortable with the idea of being around a man, never mind actually kissing one, but you’re the only one I can trust so I thought I’d ask you, which I now realize was a stupid move from me, so can we just forget the last ten seconds even existed…?”

He started laughing at how fast she rambled when she got nervous.

“…which I just realized you said you wouldn’t do any _timey wimey_ things, whatever that means, but I’m sure ignoring time does count as it, so-“

“Clara.”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up,” he said, in a playful tune.

Their heads were close, so close they could feel each other’s warm breaths against their own skin. Clara’s lips were half open and she could feel the air coming up from her lungs escaping through them. The Doctor’s gaze switched between her eyes and her mouth, but not once making her uncomfortable.

Slowly, his lips met hers in a kiss. It was gentle, simple, both too afraid to move on to the next phase, neither willing to break the link connecting them. Cautiously, Clara’s hands moved to his neck, bringing him closer to her, but the Doctor never once invaded her with his tongue. The simple touch of their lips was enough.

Clara was the one to pull apart, several moments later. She had a turve smile on the corner of her wet lips, in contrast to his blushed face. “Thank you, Doctor.”

His face soon melted down into a smile as well. “Anytime, Clara. _My Clara.”_

Reluctantly, she let go of his touch. She turned his back on him and walked towards the TARDIS door, her mind going miles per hour, as she knew was his. The Doctor kept an eye on her, refusing to take his attention from her until she was safely back out of his spaceship.

Surprisingly, she turned around. “Doctor?”

He wanted to run to her and ask her to stay, but he didn’t. “Yes, Clara?”

“I’ll see you next Wednesday?” Clara winced at him.

The Doctor couldn’t help himself but to grin immensely. “Yes, I’ll see you next Wednesday.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I wrote this many years ago, I had settled with finishing the story in the last chapter, but I decided to add this little epilogue and offer Clara the closure she so obviously needs. Personally, I think this is the best chapter of the fanfic and I hope you'll be pleased with it as well :)

Clara heard the TARDIS materializing itself from her room in the attic.

She smiled to herself, not a smile that took over her face, but one enough to show some happiness. She stood up, her tiny legs moving her to outside the house. She was wearing some jeans, along a red sweater shirt, nothing fancy, nothing that would show much of her skin, whilst her hair messily fell over her shoulders.

Surprisingly, the Doctor was waiting for her just outside the Maitland’s door. He greeted her with a smile that went from ear to ear, which could easily scare a little kid. Without any words, she awkwardly followed him back to his spaceship.

She was the one to close the door behind her, before silently resting her back against a puffy chair by the console, where he was messing with all sorts of bottoms. “So, where you want to go?” he offered, “Anywhere, anytime of your choice.”

Clara squeezed her eyes, thinking. “Anywhere of my choice?”

The Doctor chuckled, before turning around to stare at her. “Yes, Clara.”

She offered him half a smirk, “And you can’t object to it, that’s the rule.”

“I can’t object to it, that’s the rule,” he basically repeated every one of her words.

She got back up, the frown on her face disappearing immediately. She didn’t know how long it had been since he had last seen her, it could be hours, it could be years, she had no way of telling how fresh the events of what had happened just the other week for her were. “I… I want to see _him_.”

The Doctor froze, his eyes fixed on hers, even if she vigorously looked away. He could see the dark circles under her eyes, besides her efforts to hide them away with makeups. He couldn’t help himself but to notice how the sparkle on her eyes had disappeared completely; not to mention that her clothes weren’t her usually outfits. She was _changed._

He wondered how had her week gone by; had she had nightmares or had she not slept at all, because he doubted she managed to sleep peacefully. Had she told anyone about what had happened or had she suffered all to herself. He wondered how many times had she showered, because he had desperately tried to give her the privacy she requested, even if it killed not knowing what was going through her mind, despite that he could just pop into the future and see for himself – but even so, he would miss a great part of her struggle and just skip to the healing part.

“Clara…” the Doctor tried to utter some words of discordance towards her request, but the shock had gotten to him so badly he only managed to gasp her name.

“Please, Doctor,” she begged, despite of the he-couldn’t-say-no rule. “I need you to do this for me.”

The Doctor incessantly searched for her eyes, but she was going a good job on hiding them. She wouldn’t manage to ask him if she dared to look into his eyes. “I just don’t know what good could come from this, Clara.”

Clara rubbed her hand against the corner of her eyes, wiping the tears away before they even fell down her face. “I need some closure.”

The Doctor turned back to his machine, messing with a great amount of bottoms. “There are others way to get closure.”

Clara sat back in the chair; focusing her eyes on him, only because he wasn’t staring back at her. She took a long breath, before speaking up, “You know, I started seeing a therapist this past week. The first step of healing is admitting you need help – at least that’s what she told me – and that’s what I did. She told me that I had to find my own way of coping with what happened, but I’ve put a lot of thought into this, I stayed up for nights just debating what should I do, and this is it. I _need_ to see him.”

The doctor ached at her words. From all the scenarios he pictured she was going through his absence, she was none. She was seeking for the help she was in despair for but didn’t know where or how to get. Reluctantly, he pulled down the level.

Clara raised an eyebrow. “Where are we going?”

The Doctor turned around slowly, giving her a faint smile, “I promised you’d pick our destination today.”

“Oh,” she exclaimed, her face so surprised he was sure she thought he would deny her request.

They followed to the outside in an awkward silence, arriving on a Russian small town. The sun was still high in the sky, and the cold wind breeze told the Doctor that the TARDIS had landed a little ahead than the warm spring he had aimed. Luckily, Clara didn’t even seem to mind.

“Is this the place?” she asked, looking at the simple house the TARDIS had parked right in front. He nodded in agreement.

They walked up to the porch and Clara froze. She stared at the doorbell for minutes; her body completely still but her mind going miles the hour. Her survival instincts were yelling at her to flee the place and never look back, to go back to her to her room in the spaceship and lock herself up for the rest of the night, but she wouldn’t. Her breathing had noticeably increased and her hands slightly shaking against her torso; her legs were itching to run away, but she had already come such a long way, she wouldn’t just throw that effort away.

The Doctor did his best not to bother her and let her take the time she so obviously needed, but he couldn’t stand seeing someone who he loved struggling with their inner demons. “You don’t have anything to prove, Clara. We could just go back to the TARDIS and fly away to a magical place.”

Clara shook her head. “Yes, I do. I’ve got things to finish, Doctor, to prove to myself for my own reasons. I came here willingly to do this, and that’s how I’m leaving.”

The Doctor nodded, uncertain if she was rather talking to him or to herself. He could only imagine what was going through her mind, how much convincing she putting out to herself to simply stand; how much strength she required in order not to fall weak to the floor. He silently laid one of his hands against the smooth face fabric of her sweater. “Okay.”

She took a long breath. “He took things from me.”

He wanted so badly to wrap her in his embrace, but he respected her personal space. “I know, Clara.”

Her eyes remained focused on the same spot. “He’s the only one from whom I can take them back.”

“I’m not judging you. You don’t need to explain yourself,” he assured her.

She slowly closed her eyelids and opened them again. “I can do this.”

“Yes, you can,” his voice was sweet on her, “But it doesn’t mean you have to do this now. It’s been one week only, no one expect you to get back on your feet so quickly.”

Clara shyly touched the back of her hand against his, in a silent request to wrap her fingers around his alien cold ones. She was relieved when he understood her plead. “I need to see for myself how life’s treated him so I’ll know how to move on myself,” she explained.

The Doctor raised her hand in the air and kissed the knuckles of her fingers. “Okay, just remember that I’ll be by your side the whole time through, so you can ease a little bit.”

Clara turned her head to look at him, smiling at him, simultaneously pressing her tiny fingertips against the bell, embracing the warmth of his eyes to find the strength to do it. “Thank you, Doctor.”

Two seconds later, the main door was opened by a little girl who couldn’t be older than four years old. Clara slightly leaned down, trying to look less intimidating to the kid. “Hello, sweetie, I—"

“Nina, what have I told you about getting the door when we’re not expecting visitors,” an elderly voice warned, walking up to the porch as well. She offered the time travelers a weak smile, “Kids, you know how they are. Can I help you?”

She straightened back up, still holding his hand on hers. “Hi, does Artur Kricevsky live here?”

“Yes, I’m his wife,” she nodded, “May I ask you what is this about?”

Clara’s jaw fell open. From all the time she spent finding the strength to be there, she never once thought to come with a cover story. Thankfully, the Doctor answered for her, “Hi, we’re Doctor and Mrs. Smith. Her father fought in the Cold War alongside your husband, and he’s recently passed away, so we were wondering if we could talk for a little time with him.”

“Sure, come on in,” the wife stepped aside to allow their entrance. “Artur is just in the living room playing with the grandkids, please make yourselves at home. Can I get you guys something; coffee, tea, anything?”

“Tea would be great, thanks,” Clara said, not that thirsty, just aiming to get the woman out of the room. She doubted she knew the kind of man her husband really was, and she didn’t want to be the one to break a marriage apart.

The Doctor kept hovering over her, “You sure you want to do this?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Silently, the two of them moved into the living room. Clara’s heart was one step from jumping out of her chest, but she sustained her exterior façade as calm as possible, regardless of him being able to see right through her. Keeping a cool expression on her face, she called out for her attacker, “Artur Kricevsky?”

The old man looked up, surprised to say the least. He ordered the children to go play in another room, before standing up in front of the couple. He wanted to take a step towards them, but from the man’s clenched fists and the girl’s frightened face, he decided it would be better not to. “Doctor, _Clara_ , time has frozen on you.”

Clara felt completely uncomfortable with his words, but she didn’t allow them to scare her off. “I’m surprised you remember our names.”

The Russian chuckled to himself, sitting down at an armchair while indicating for them to sit on the opposite couch. “How could I forget the name of the girl who left me this?” he pondered, pointing to a big scar that went from the corner of his eye down to his chin.

The Doctor laid a hand on her tight, giving her as much as support as he could. “Yeah, well, that line on your face tells much more than a mere scar, doesn’t it,” she remarked.

The amusement on his face was replaced by fury almost instantaneously. “Is that why you’re here? To talk about something that’s been buried in the past for thirty years now?”

Clara looked down, laughing to herself, even if she had no idea why. “It’s not been buried for me to thirty years. Heck, it’s not even been thirty days.”

The former soldier crossed his arms against her chest. “Then why do I have the pleasure of this unpleasant visit?”

The Doctor’s gaze met with his. “You don’t get to raise your voice at her, you don’t get to be crossed at her, not after everything you put her through.”

“What exactly did I put her through?” he spatted, his management being just the same as their last encounter. “I gave her the time of her life! She should be thankful, I was doing her a favor, because who else would want to mate with her?!”

Clara wanted to puke at his misogyny. “Thankful is _not_ how I feel,” her voice was weary, but firm nonetheless. “You _raped_ me, you were doing me no favor. We did not _mate,_ you broke every law of ethics and violated me in the worst kind of way.”

Artur jerked back in his chair. “You’re angry, I get that, but I don’t understand what the heck you want with me.”

Finally, Clara found the guts to reinitiate the eye contact. “You took my dignity away. I’m here to take it back.”

He started to laugh at her unconditionally. “You know what, it’s been so many years and you’re still a _pathetic joke_.”

The Doctor tried to get up and smack him in the head, but Clara held him back. He now understood why she had called herself _a pathetic joke_ while he was taking care of her right after the attack, and he feared she still saw herself as that. “It’s okay, Doctor, his words can’t get to me.”

He shook his head. “I don’t care, Clara, he won’t talk to you like that. He will treat you with respect, not like a piece of meat, because you’re so much more than that.”

He carried on laughing. “Or what, you’ll knock me out, Skinny Man?”

“I can make you cry for mercy, Kricevsky. You think the Ice Warrior was scary? He’s got nothing on me,” the Doctor threatened, and for once, his words weren’t taken for granted, because the sailor’s face embraced a permanent frown. “I’m glad we’ve got this sorted out. Now, Clara, carry on.”

Clara stared at him for a long time, with the same eyes she had during the assault, from which she could tell was intimidating the man in front of her. “Tell me what happened after we left the sub.”

He shot his shoulders up and down. “I don’t remember; it’s been too long.”

She was sure the vein on her forehead had stunk out. “Then you better make up a very convincing story, because I’m not leaving without answers.”

Artur took a long breath, knowing by the look from the Doctor he would be in great trouble if he didn’t require the answers he needed. “I remained locked up in the basement for the rest of the mission, which must have lasted about six, maybe seven months. Seven months where I carried on with nothing but the memories of our little _fuck_.”

“Language,” the Doctor warned, only to be hushed by her.

“Soon enough, we had all been dismissed and everyone forgot what had happened. I was free again and everyone else moved on with their lives, leaving the memories with me and me only, regardless of what those memories would do to me or what I would do to those memories. I came back to my hometown, made up some war battle from where I got the scars, met Katya, married her, had three kids who are now having their own kids, and that’s it. Sorry if it’s not what you wanted to hear.”

Clara remained still, trying to digest all the information she had heard. Katya made her way back into the room, carrying two cups of tea that now the younger woman was thankful for. She took a long sip, while hearing the old man talking to his wife, “Katya, why won’t you check on the kids? I told them to go play in our room, but it’s so quiet I’m starting to worry.”

Clara waited for the elder lady to leave the room before moving her lips again, “What did you to do those memories?”

“I kept them to myself, never told a soul. People tend to judge if you tell them you’ve raped a girl.”

She couldn’t tell if he were joking or not, but either way she wasn’t amused. “People tend to judge if you tell them you’ve been raped, too.”

He didn’t seem to care at all. “That’s your issue, not mine.”

“No, you see, it is your issue,” her voice came out harsher than she intended. “You put me here; I did not _ask_ to be raped, you did that on your own, and yet I’m the one dealing with the consequences of your actions.”

“Now, Clara, you and I both know you walked around that sub asking for it,” he pointed out a finger to her, only to get the alien to point his own at him in repression, “You and that blue dress of yours, showing legs that wouldn’t quit. No woman with self-respect dresses up like that, therefore you got what you deserved. Next time you don’t want to be used, then don’t go around dressed like a _whore_.”

She shivered back, disgusted at how well he remembered the events of those days, even when past three decades. “First, I was wearing navy uniforms when you broke in, so you don’t get to lay your sins on me and my dressing choices. Second, I could be walking around naked and you still wouldn’t have the right to force yourself inside of me. It wasn’t the Cave Age, you could damn well have behaved like a human being rather than an _irrational_ animal.”

As desperately as the Doctor wanted to budge in, he knew that was something she needed to do by herself, he was simply riding alone. Besides, she was doing a pretty good job, defending herself without once losing her posture. Finally, he understood why she needed to be there. She needed to assure all her attacker, him and herself that she was no damsel in distress.

“You’re in my house, you will _not_ disrespect me with insults,” his tone became even angrier than before.

“Oh, but you’re allowed to disrespect me whenever you feel like? You can disrespect me to the point of sticking your _penis_ inside of me?!” she crossed her arms against her torso, shooting him a defiant look.

“I don’t care how you see the events, I won’t bear you defaming me.”

Noticing they were babbling in circles, she decided to move on. “What did those memories do to you?”

“What?!”

“What did those _memories do to you,_ ” she repeated, lacking the patience she had when she first arrived. She felt her friend placing his hand against her shoulder, giving it gentle encouraging squeezes.

He sighed, annoyed. “Those memories made me who I am today.”

Clara stared blankly at him. “So did you do to your wife the same you did to me?”

She saw him become red in fury. “My wife is a dignified woman, she holds self-respect, she would never do anything to get herself in that position.”

Clara rolled her eyes. “We’re back again to blaming me? The victim? I thought we were past this point, already,” she argued, knowing damn well the fault wasn’t on her, even if she felt like it. She just needed him to take the blame off her for a mere second, just enough to relieve her shoulders from the heavy weight on them.

“If it’s not your fault, then whose is it?”

“Why don’t you look at the reflection in the mirror?” the Doctor could keep his tongue inside of his mouth anymore, even if Clara gave him an oppressive look. He leaned back in silence.

“You two make quite a good pair,” Artur laughed to himself.

Clara took another sip of tea, embracing herself for the question that had gotten her there in the first place, “If your wife wasn’t unworthy of your actions, then did you ever find someone who was? Did you ever… rape another girl?”

She looked away almost instantaneously. She didn’t know whether she really wanted to know it or not. Living in oblivion seemed some appealing rather than living among the terrible truth. She was scared some other woman had been put through the same as her, and being raped was something she would never with on anybody, no matter how bad of a person they were. The Doctor pulled her closer to him.

The sailor stared at her for a long time, before confessing, “No, I didn’t. You were the only one, Clara.”

Clara’s tense body eased down for the first time since she first arrived there. She couldn’t tell whether he was lying or not, but she chose to believe him either way, for her own sake. She placed the mug in the coffee table, before turning to the man next to her. “I’m ready to go now, Doctor.”

Artur objected to the idea. After so many years of living with only the memories of her, he wasn’t ready to let go of the real her just yet. “Already? But I didn’t even have the chance to tell you about all the times that I’ve fantasized about you and I, Clara.”

Getting up, she noted, “You’ve asked me to respect you, so I’m respectfully going to leave those fantasies for you and you only.”

Artur wanted to intimidate her by standing up and imposing his big figure upon her, but she didn’t even flinch. Instead, she offered him her hand to shake, “Thank your wife for me for the tea. I’m happy for you and your family, I truly am, but for own sake, I really hope your kids haven’t taken the evilness after you.”

Besides the anger on his face, Clara walked out of the room with her head up, the Doctor right behind her. She used her key to get inside the TARDIS, and she waited for him by the console. She had a smirk on her face she couldn’t get rid.

Luckily, the smile had taken over his face as well. Without being able to hold herself back, she jumped onto his neck, even if she had to stand on her tiptoes in order to reach so high. With the excitement running on his veins, he picked her up and lifted her in the air, getting her little feet several inches above from the floor, before landing her back;

“I’m so proud of you, Clara. _So proud,_ ” he told her, tightening the grip around her petite form.

“I’m proud of me, too…?” she hesitated, arms still wrapped around his neck. She had first aimed to rest her chin atop of his shoulder, but she ended up settling with laying her head across his chest, due to the height difference.

The Doctor kissed the top of her head, before leaning apart just enough to glance at her. He could see the glow slowly returning to her eyes. “Yes, you should be. You did the impossible today, you faced your attacker with no anger and showed you are a better person then he will ever be. Today, you showed yourself you are stronger than you think. You showed yourself that you can get past this, that you will.”

“I’m glad we’ve come here,” she smiled, “I was shown the exact future I needed to see.”

“Yeah?” he took a lock of her hair and laid it behind her ear. “And what is that?”

“Well,” she was diving herself into his blue eyes. “I was shown that my life doesn’t need to stop because of what happened. It could, if I wanted, but I don’t. I just want to carry on living, I want to carry on traveling. I want to see the beauty in the universe, and I want to defeat the evilness when possible. I want to move on, Doctor, and coming here showed me that I can do it.”

The Doctor’s smile enlarged even more. “Then, I’m glad we’ve come here, too.”

Finally, Clara stepped out of his embrace. Her hands traveled to the bottoms displayed all over the console, still unable to fade the smile from her face. She wrapped her fingers around the level, his own wrapping around hers. “Take me to the stars, Chin Boy.”

Glaring at each other’s eyes, they pulled down the level together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for taking so long to finish publishing this, as it's been rotting on my computer for ages now. Thank you all so much for taking the time to read this, specially when it holds such a dark subject.

**Author's Note:**

> So, any thoughts? Reviews are much appreciated and what get me going, so be my guest to leave any feedback :)


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